“In November 1864,” she said, “a Cheyenne chief, Black Kettle, agrees to make peace with the white men and he brings his people and a small group of Arapaho to Sand Creek. That’s a little stream seventy kilometres from Fort Lyon, Colorado. At dawn on November 29 a group of six to seven hundred mounted servicemen, who have left the fort during the night and drunk whiskey to warm up, attack the Indian campsite. They are led by Colonel Chivington, who gives the following order: ‘Kill them and scalp them all, young and old.’ There are five hundred Indians, most of them women and children. Chief Black Kettle hoists an American flag that was given him by President Lincoln. Seeing that the soldiers are pursuing their attack, he raises a white flag, as well. But Chivington’s soldiers continue to fire, and they fire at everyone. They fire at women and children. They fire rifles, pistols and cannon. About forty women take refuge in a cave. As a gesture of peace they send out a six-year-old girl with a white flag, but as soon as they see the little girl the soldiers fire at her; then they flush out the women, killing and scalping them. They catch children and smash their skulls against tree trunks. There is a pregnant woman: they kill her, disembowel her and lay the foetus on the ground beside her. When the massacre is over a hundred women and children have been killed, and twenty-five men. The bodies have been scalped and some of them cut to pieces. Chief Black Kettle has managed to escape and his wife is still alive, though nine bullets were fired at her. And that’s what happened at Sand Creek.”

La Grande Sauterelle made an effort to calm down again.

She had spoken with a sort of controlled violence. She had an excellent memory and she remembered dates and figures.

The storm had passed and Jack breathed again. He looked straight ahead without saying a word. The road was gradually becoming steeper. The Rockies were very close.

They stopped to eat around six o’clock. Afterwards there was another storm, briefer this time. The girl talked about Washita.

“With seven hundred men,” she said, “during the night General Custer surrounds a village of Cheyenne who are camping on the shore of the Washita River. It is November 1868. At dawn, Custer’s men, who form the Seventh Regiment of the U.S. Cavalry, launch an attack to the sound of bugles. They come from all sides at once, and in a few minutes they massacre a hundred men, women and children. Among the dead are Chief Black Kettle and his wife. This time, their luck ran out, though old Black Kettle had realized that the Indians were no match for the whites in battle and he’d done his best to persuade the other chiefs that they must seek peace. And that’s it.”